


To brush along a delicate canvas

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Magic, Soulmates, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only the mate to your soul may unlock the language beneath your skin</p>
            </blockquote>





	To brush along a delicate canvas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlatlandDan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/gifts).



> A Happy Birthday fic for [FlatlandDan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/pseuds/FlatlandDan) who asked for C/C writing on skin with an E rating. 
> 
> Sorry I couldn't quite get to the full E rating...

“Only the mate to your soul may unlock the language beneath your skin,” the old woman says.

Clint pulls his arm away from the soothsayer’s grip and pretends not to notice the pinpricks that spread from where she had touched him. Clint is too old to believe in the old circus superstitions, he tells himself, but he rubs his arm and makes a point of avoiding the old woman from then on.

Who wants a soulmate anyway?

~*~*~*~*~

Clint doesn’t make a point of writing on his skin. He has a pretty good memory and there’s rarely anything important enough that’s worth writing down on something not easily disposable.

The first time it happens, he’s twenty and the old soothsayer from the circus is a long-faded memory. Clint is watching the man he’s being paid to kill the next day when he realizes that his vantage point gives him a clear view of the keypad into the mark’s apartment building. Not one to let an easy opportunity pass, Clint pats his pockets, but finds only a pen and no paper. Shrugging, he starts to write the door code on his palm and ends up dropping the pen in shock.

From the point where the ink has touched his skin, lines and swirls spread outward, fading as they reach his wrist like a pen running out of ink. Intrigued, he picks up the pen and touches the tip to where one of the swirls ends and watches as more lines spread down his arm. Maybe the old woman wasn’t so crazy after all.

A noise from the street pulls Clint out of his reverie and he re-focuses on the task at hand. He can worry about the crazy ink swirls later. After all, it’s not like he needs a soulmate now any more than he did before.

~*~*~*~*~

More than a decade passes and Clint has yet to find anyone else who can make the swirls of ink emerge across his skin. He tries not to let it matter, but he can’t help being disappointed every time he prods a partner into writing on his hand and nothing happens. Clint really isn’t surprised when none of the relationships work out.

He buys a calligraphy brush and runs it along his skin, watching the lines unfurl and imagines what it would feel like to have his mate chase the ink with gentle fingers and lips. 

Now that Clint finally wants nothing more than to find his soulmate, it seems that fate feels it necessary to keep him alone.

~*~*~*~*~

“Congratulations on making level seven, Agent Barton,” Fury says and walks out of the room.

Clint looks over at Coulson, who shrugs in apology. It’s not like Clint was really expecting much fanfare, but it all seems a little anticlimactic to finally be an official member of SHIELD’s elite.

He stands, but is stopped from leaving by Coulson’s voice. “I was wondering Agent Barton, uh, Clint...”

Clint pauses, charmed by the faint blush staining the normally stoic agent’s cheeks. Coulson coughs once and then squares his shoulders. 

“Now that you’re no longer under my direct supervision,” Phil says. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Clint responds with a cheeky grin.

Clint had given up looking for his soulmate early into his career at SHIELD, so it never occurs to him to test Phil until they’re leaving a debrief and making plans for their fourth date.

“Come to mine,” Phil offers. “I make a pretty mean lasagna.”

“Sounds great,” Clint responds. “Anything I can bring?”

“An overnight bag,” Phil says softly and Clint blinks at him in surprise before smiling. 

“I can do that,” Clint agrees and then frowns when he realizes that he doesn’t know where Phil lives. “Uh...text me your address?”

“Do you even know where your phone is?” Phil asks and Clint can only shrug in response. “Here, give me your hand.”

Nearly everything at SHIELD is recorded digitally, but leave it to Phil to have a pen on him at all times. He starts to write his address on Clint’s open palm and they both watch in shock as swirls of ink begin to spread on their own across the archer’s skin. Clint pulls his hand away and closes his fist over the spreading ink. He tries to tell himself that this is just a fluke, but the ink tingles in a way that it never has before and he can feel each swirl like a caress over his skin. 

“I can explain,” Clint says, even as his mind goes completely blank.

“Has this happened before?” Phil asks.

“No,” Clint responds honestly. “Not like this. Not with anyone else.”

“Do you know what it means?” Phil continues to question and Clint fights every instinct he has to flee.

“Yes,” Clint nods. “But not here. I can’t...do you have a lot left to do here?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Phil replies and Clint nods even though he knows it’s a lie - there is always a long line of issues waiting for Phil’s attention. 

It takes over thirty minutes to get to Phil’s apartment and Clint still can’t come up with a proper explanation, so he settles for telling Phil what the soothsayer had said all those years ago.

“Can I...can I see?” Phil requests.

“You’re not freaked out?” Clint asks in surprise and reaches out to show Phil his hand. Most of the ink has faded with only the swirls closest to where Phil had started writing still visible.

“From what you’ve said, this only identifies me as your soulmate,” Phil reasons. “It doesn’t make me something different from who I was before or change how I’ve felt about you all these years.”

“Years?” Clint whispers in wonder. 

“Years,” Phil confirms without hesitation. 

Phil brushes his thumb over the last of the visible swirls and Clint shudders in response. Clint watches with rapt attention as Phil brings his hand up and touches his lips, featherlight, against the ink. A wave of pure desire washes over Clint and he surges forward, pulling his hand away and crushing his mouth against Phil’s. 

“Bedroom,” Clint says breathlessly after they break for air.

Phil stands, pulling Clint up with him, and they make their way down to the bedroom, shedding their clothes as they go. Clint tumbles backward onto the bed, eyes roving hungrily over Phil’s naked body. He smiles appreciatively at the trim and fit physique Phil keeps hidden under his suits. Clint licks his lips and Phil’s cock twitches in response.

“Come here,” Clint beckons.

Phil starts to lower himself on the bed, but then stops and looks up at the one of the bookshelves lining the wall. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Phil says and walks over to grab something off one of the top shelves - it’s an old fashioned fountain pen and a small bottle of ink. 

Clint grips the sheets in anticipation as Phil dips the pen into the ink and touches it to Clint’s chest. Clint arches off the bed as the ink spreads and Phil follows the swirls with his tongue, using the pen to place more drops of ink lower onto Clint’s belly and then his hip.

“They look like words,” Phil whispers against his skin. “je t'aime ... s'agapo ... aishitemasu ... miluji tě ... ti amo...”

Phil touches the pen to the base of Clint’s cock and swallows him down in one swift move, Phil’s hands on Clint’s hips keeping him in place as the ink sweeps up to meet Phil’s questing tongue. Clint is desperate for release, but he wants _more_. 

His hands grab at Phil’s shoulders, urging him up and Phil complies with a last lick that makes Clint shudder with want. Phil settles himself over Clint and gasps in pleasure when their cocks slide together. Clint can feel each point where their skin meets, with the ink between them increasing the sensation tenfold. He thinks that Phil must be feeling the same thing as he gasps against Clint’s neck, bucking helplessly against the archer. 

It doesn’t take long before they’re both crying out their release, spilling wetly between their bodies, and clutching helplessly at each other, too spent to do more than turn on their sides to face one another.

“So,” Clint says when he’s finally caught his breath. “That was...”

“Something I definitely want to try again very soon,” Phil completes and Clint can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes him.

Maybe finding his soulmate was the right idea after all.

_fin_


End file.
